


Easing Tension

by Mwffyn



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwffyn/pseuds/Mwffyn
Summary: Stranded at Dante’s office after making his request, V receives a treatment he didn’t know he needed.
Relationships: Dante & V (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Easing Tension

**Author's Note:**

> Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, where the characters of DMC5 actually care about each other …
> 
> I am grateful to Ariebearz for beta-reading this piece. Thank you so much!

It was really only meant as a casual pat on the shoulder. Dante didn’t even know why he did it; he usually wasn’t the touchy type. Perhaps because his bizarre new client had such a lonely air about him―so _lost_ , so out-of-place, looking as though he belonged nowhere, especially not here. As V stood there in the middle of his office, leaning on his cane, face lacking in life and colour while he outright _lied_ to Dante about Vergil somehow fitting into this unthinkable scenario―there was something desperate about him. And believe it or not, Dante was actually perceptive of other people’s moods, far more so than people would expect him to be. It might have come with his advanced senses. He saw the blown pupils and the soft tremor in those bony limbs that normal humans wouldn’t. He heard the slightly laboured breath that followed “Your reason for fighting.” He smelled the sweet scent of fresh angst after the whispered “Vergil.”  
This guy thought he had it perfectly under control, his aura of unrest, but Dante sensed it. He thought he sensed even more, an utterly abstract thing― _isolation_. And why shouldn’t he? He had seen, heard and smelled it on himself years ago, a long time he didn’t particularly enjoy remembering.  
“And now, pal?” he asked, leaning back on the couch, folding his arms behind his neck. “It’ll take some time till he returns with the ladies.” Morrison was a fast traveller when it came to bringing hunters and clients together, but Dante had no idea where the girls were stuck right now.  
“I await new information as soon as it arrives,” V said and turned to the door. “I’ll be around. You’ll find me.”  
He set the cane on the floor with his next step, and Dante heard himself asking, “This isn’t an act, is it?”  
V halted, barely turning. “Pardon?”  
“Your cane.”  
“Why would it be an act?”  
Dante knew it wasn’t wise to be too curious about clients, and this one certainly had picked an alias for a reason, but he couldn’t help himself. “I just wonder why you’re lying, that’s all. Why bring Vergil into this?”  
“Dante, you ask too many questions.” The unrest grew stronger. V wasn’t comfortable around him, although he made every effort to hide it. “I’ll see you.”  
Dante could have let him go then. He had no reason to occupy himself with Mr. Mysterious any longer; that guy was no one special. But his mood had so vastly improved during the last few minutes―electricity back on, water back on, a big job, cash up front, escaped the threat of a terrible birthday party―that it made him feel kind of generous. After all, that lanky fellow was responsible for the unexpectedly quick resolution of all his current problems.  
“Hey, wait. Why don’t you stay for a beer and we talk about that job? Just a couple more details.”  
V rejected the invitation with a shake of his head. “I’d rather not. I have business waiting.”  
“Business more important than your _powerful demon_?” Dante mocked, getting up from the couch and walking straight towards him. The name _Vergil_ still ringing in his ears, he couldn’t let V go just yet. No doubt he lied, but he knew the name, so Dante wanted a _sign_ , however small. “Hey, all I need is a piece of truth from you. In my biz, you better be careful with all things fishy. I’m not a snitch, you can tell me what you know.”  
And that was when he put his hand on V’s naked shoulder―a noncommittal, friendly gesture of reassurance. It wasn’t a hard clap, not really. Yet V gasped as if in shock, and at the same time Dante’s palm met his skin, his knees buckled. He went down in a wobble, as though his legs had turned into bubble gum. His cane, being of no help at all, clattered to the floor.  
“Oh,” was all Dante could bring up as a comment. “Sorry. Didn’t think a little pat would make you hit the canvas. You okay?”  
V exhaled sharply, hands braced to the ground so he wouldn’t land on his stomach. “Yes,” he managed. “I’m fine.”  
Dante thought about helping him up, but he didn’t dare touch him again, so he just stood back and watched V push himself upright with his cane, legs still shaky. He wondered what the hell was wrong with this dude. No one could be _that_ fragile. Or… wait. Was that …?   
Dante’s eyes narrowed. Maybe there was a chance to question this stranger more closely after all.  
As V finally stood, bent and tired, Dante languidly approached him, arms crossed. “Got a pain in your back?”  
“What?” V murmured, still uneasy.  
“A back ache. That sent you down. Let’s see.” And he reached out again to touch V’s leather-covered back―interestingly enough, nothing happened this time. “Ah, there we go. You got muscle tension here. Right _here_.” And he dabbed his thumb against an utterly random spot in the small of V’s back.  
V said nothing.  
It took Dante a few long seconds to consider his next words that would break the confused silence hanging over the room; then he sighed and let them out. “Want me to try and do something about it?”

***

_‘I told you!’_ Griffon clamoured in his mind. _‘I KNEW you’d be too nervous around him! Now that’s what you get! We should’ve―’  
Shut up_, V thought, fingers still shaking uncontrollably. _That is not it. It’s something different. It is…_  
But he didn’t know what it was. Having Dante in front of him after so many years hadn’t stirred him up as much as he’d feared. Quite the opposite―Dante’s casual and shaggy appearance had, in fact, calmed something inside him. Seeing that his brother was well and still the same forthright person, his curiosity and quick wits not darkened by trauma or ill mind, had a soothing effect on V’s nerves. At the same time, it wasn’t exactly _pleasant_ being around Dante. He emitted power like a heavy perfume, his body language was strong and confident and his firm gaze was intimidating. V sensed the demon in him. His own body would thank him if he just ran away, but that wasn’t an option. Having these two emotions battle inside him had made him somewhat insecure, yes―but he hadn’t anticipated what Dante’s mere _touch_ would do.  
All of a sudden, V became aware that he hadn’t received any friendly, meaningful touch for what felt like… _ages_. There had been no such thing during his years-long captivity in the most repulsive place imaginable, and after he’d been discarded by Vergil, shed like an old husk, he’d been only touched by muggers: seized, yanked, even hit in the face until his nose bled. Touches, if any, would only hurt him, so he would avoid them altogether.  
But that random, pain-free touch of Dante’s… a very human skin-on-skin contact… It shattered his whole world. His legs had given way under him at the sensation, making him collapse helplessly on the wooden floor like a puppet on slack strings.  
“You got muscle tension here,” Dante now told him in the tone of a mere commentary, “right _here_.” And he pressed his thumb somewhere into the leather.  
That was not where V wanted it.  
In his mind, tied to his thoughts, Griffon laughed. _‘Muscle tension, eh? I didn’t even know you HAD muscles.’_  
For several seconds, V’s brain and mouth felt numb. He didn’t know what to say. Dante kept wandering around him, until eventually, he offered, “Want me to try and do something about it?”  
At that, V’s throat tightened. God no, what was that―what happened to him? He _hated_ it―his vulnerability, his childish longings, the raw human needs he was left with. He wanted nothing of it. He should make haste and leave. Now.  
“No,” he managed. “Thank you.” He flinched away from Dante, towards the door again.  
“Hey, that was an offer of help, not a threat of torture,” Dante said, brows raised, sounding somewhat insulted. “I give good backrubs, just ask anyone.”  
Backrub…  
V’s feet stopped again, without his command, so that he almost stumbled over them.  
_‘What’s wrong, can we get outta here now?’_ Griffon asked, impatient. _‘If you really got tension, I’ll peck it till it’s gone, all right? It’ll only hurt a bit.’_  
Dante watched him, saw he had frozen on the spot, and raised his arms in an almost theatrical shrug. “Well, I certainly won’t force it on you. Go without free service, then.”  
It wasn’t the prospect of any free service that held V back on the doorstep. It was the intense tingling on his skin where Dante’s hand had been―now sorely missed―making V’s mouth even drier and this throat even tighter. He simply wasn’t able to give that up. He was more human than he’d ever been, and the longing for touch was unbearable now that he’d tasted it again after such an unspeakably long time. That spot almost ached. He barely managed to withstand the urge to reach up and rub it himself.  
“Why would you do that for me?” he asked without looking at Dante. His gaze was still fixed on the ground.  
“You brought me my first big gig in a month,” Dante replied, strolling around, at ease. “I’m not even mad at you for lying. You didn’t need to make up that story. All demons are lame in the end, I take them out anyway.”  
“This isn’t going to be lame,” V murmured. “And… yes.”  
“What?” Dante turned.  
V still didn’t look him in the eyes. “I would appreciate it if you took care of my… tension.”

***

“All right, sit down,” Dante ordered, pointing at the couch.  
V shuffled towards it obediently. He still felt wobbly on his legs, anticipation already making him giddy. This was really happening. Nothing else mattered right now, not the cool temperature in the office, or the vaguely unpleasant smell. For the moment, V had lost his perception of a hostile environment.  
He placed his behind on the edge of the couch, listening feverishly to the rustling noise of Dante sitting down behind him, his weight pressing into the cushions, and then the swiping sound as he pulled off his fingerless gloves. The man emitted a calm and steady warmth, like a radiator. The soft puff of a scrutinising “Hmmm” stirred the hairs on V’s nape.  
At last, Dante said, “Okay, I’ll try not to hurt you. If something’s painful, let me know.” And then, he carefully placed his hands on V’s shoulders.  
V had planned to compose himself and stay absolutely still, but that was impossible. The contact had him shuddering from head to toe, and again, he instinctively tried to duck away until the hands came off.  
Yet Dante didn’t grow impatient in any way. “Oh boy, seems you have it bad,” he commented, clicking his tongue. “Okay, so …” He tapped the collar of V’s leather coat. “… any chance I can get you out of this?”  
When V failed to speak again, tongue thick and numb in his mouth, Dante reached over his shoulder and, bit by bit, began to undo the lacing over V’s chest. V could do nothing but give a tiny gasp. He felt heavily unsettled.  
Dante only chuckled. “Don’t think I always strip my clients. It’s just that I need some access here.” When his fingertips brushed over V’s skin through the tied laces, V couldn’t help but wince again.  
_‘Such nasty tension,’_ Griffon scoffed. _‘Let’s hope he works it out of you.’_  
V began to tremble anew, worse this time. His teeth almost chattered when he said, “I don’t see how this is supposed to be of any help.” But he did nothing to stop it. He allowed Dante to carefully loosen the strings and eventually pull the vest-like coat down over his shoulders. The air felt even colder now. And V felt as vulnerable as only once before―when he had lain in Urizen’s growing shadow, naked and terrified. By instinct, he clutched his own arms over his chest, goosebumps rushing over them.  
Suddenly, Dante’s hand was at the small of his back and pushed him forward. And yet again, V gave in to the touch at once, slumping down on his stomach as though no bones could hold him upright.  
“Keep cool, pal,” Dante said almost cheerfully. “You’ll see. When I’m done, you’ll be as good as new. And I ain’t even gonna charge you for it, how ’bout that?”  
Silence from V’s end. He just couldn’t move his mouth.  
_‘V, you’re aware you’re lying on his couch half-naked, right? Man, that escalated quickly.’_  
Dante’s tone was more serious when he said, “Really, it’s okay. We’ll put this right.” It sounded as if he spoke of something entirely different.  
And then, his palms landed softly on V’s back. It was too much, all too much.

***

Dante felt that something was wrong. His client appeared to be a nervous wreck when it came to being touched―one of the most common means of social interaction, right? But well, maybe he simply was like that around strangers. Odd, given his determined and even haughty aura at his entrance only minutes ago.  
_…I am but two days old._  
Haha.  
_…A powerful demon is about to resurrect, and we need your help, Dante._  
Not new.  
_…Vergil._  
…Oh well.  
Now he sat on the couch, stiff like a plank, bare back turned to Dante, head bowed, silent. Though he said no word and stirred no muscle, his breath sounded strained as if he struggled to keep his composure.  
Dante didn’t know why he hadn’t waited for an answer before stripping V of that vest-thing without permission. Half-nudity was enough to make people feel vulnerable. But hey, V could have stopped him, right? He obviously wanted to be treated, even if it made him uncomfortable. Still, his visible trembling was beginning to concern Dante. He was sure his guess had been right: There was more to this.  
As for the ‘tension’, that was a thing Dante had simply made up. He had no idea how to detect it, and neither was he any good at easing it out. Trish and Lady would have protested if they were around. “Dante, you’re _terrible_ at this!” – “It hurts even more than before!” Yeah. But his attempts were always well-intentioned. No, V most likely had no tension, but Dante had needed an excuse. The thing was, he knew exactly what it felt like when nobody … lent a hand, so to speak. But obviously, he couldn’t simply give voice to that with a “Pal, seems you’re alone too often”, or “Hey, when’s the last time someone gave you a pat on the back?” After all, this guy here was a complete stranger. Dante didn’t know why he did all this. He shouldn’t care, but he did.  
Without hesitation, he nudged V’s back to push him over, and the dude collapsed onto his belly like a mannequin. Poor sucker.  
Dante tried to sound as casual as possible as he said, “Keep cool, pal. You’ll see, when I’m done, you’ll be as good as new. And I ain’t even gonna charge you for it, now how ’bout that?”  
And with V stretched out on his stomach now, Dante was free to put both palms on him and see what it did.

***

Of course, it did a lot.  
V gasped and convulsed, apparently unable to suppress the reaction. Dante had seen this coming and waited it out, not drawing back this time. That cold skin between V’s tattooed shoulders was so strangely white and flawless, like a newborn’s. Where had this man spent his life, in solitary confinement? Well, that would explain a lot. Maybe he was a criminal of sorts, or even a serial killer. He sure didn’t look like a normal person.  
V writhed under Dante’s palms while not actually trying to escape. It seemed he had merely grown hypersensitive to skin on skin contact. Well, no surprise there. Dante let his hands rest on that shuddering back until, after a short while, the involuntary cramping ceased. V let his head and arms sink down on the upholstery. A deep breath left his lungs.  
“You okay?” Dante asked.  
“Yes.” But there were still little tremors running through V’s outstretched body. “It was… ah, I’m sorry… I may not be used to…” But he shut his mouth then, and Dante was quick to not let the unpleasant silence draw out.  
“Just relax.”  
Only then did he begin to move his finger pads in small circles, with not too much pressure on them, and let them slowly crawl upwards to V’s neck on both sides of his spine. It was a random move―he had no clue how to massage someone’s back properly, but that didn’t really matter as long as it was touch.  
It took a few minutes, but then, Dante felt V beginning to relax. His breathing evened, his jaws unclenched. Bit by bit, his muscles loosened. So much for the tension.  
“Now… will you tell me how Vergil fits into this?”  
V swallowed. “I… don’t think it is a good idea to tell you just yet.”  
“C’mon. I can handle things.” Dante curled his fists and very carefully dug his knuckles into V’s shoulders. He had seen this technique somewhere before, but didn’t remember where. V gave a little gasp. “Y’know, the last time I saw him, we… well, let’s just say I didn’t think he came out of it alive.”  
“Wrong,” V said and then bit his lip.  
Dante let the balls of his thumbs stroke down his flanks and brought them up again to repeat the move. V seemed to like that, he almost melted into the strokes, eyes half-closed. Admittedly, massaging him wasn’t easy. He was so lean, with little actual muscle mass to knead through. Dante was almost sure what he did hurt V here and there. But there was no complaint.  
“So you’re telling me Vergil’s alive.”  
“Yes,” V said drowsily.  
“And is there… I mean, if he’s the big bad guy, is there a chance we can defeat him and let him live?”  
A moment of hesitation. “Yes.”  
Dante had to admit that V was a good liar. The idea of massaging this guy into a semi-coma to lure the truth out of him seemed easier thought than done. Dante started to rub his back with full palms, using his thumbs to gently squeeze the soft flesh. V sighed and fully closed his eyes.  
_He trusts me._  
It was a sudden realisation that had Dante nearly halt in his ministrations. Yes, of course V trusted him. He had totally given himself up to the careful strokes which did, in fact, much resemble the tender caresses of a close friend or relative. You really didn’t need to be a detective to figure out that there was a blatant lack of physical contact with this man. But still, it was odd that V had been so quick to cast off his distrust, if there had been any.  
_Why would he trust me like that?_ Dante wondered. He’d always thought he had an established reputation out there.  
But then he noticed that working on V also did something to _him_. Watching V’s peaceful face with his eyes closed and his slightly parted lips, the deep and regular breaths going in and out, Dante felt like he… _knew_ him. He reminded him of someone, didn’t he? Yet Dante couldn’t say who it was, couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He simply felt secure around V, as if he’d known him for a lifetime, although he was sure he’d never seen that face before. He would have remembered; it was no ordinary face. That weird feeling of familiarity was what had made him want to give V what he needed in the first place. No reservations, no reluctance to touch and stroke him.  
V must have been feeling the same odd intimacy. What if… well, just what if he was telling the truth? But no, no, that wasn’t possible―not a chance. Dante had been trying to forget Vergil all those years, he wouldn’t clutch at straws now. Even if Vergil _was_ the bad guy, he was… the _bad_ guy. Vergil was an asshole who didn’t care how many humans died due to his childish antics, he’d proven that often enough.  
Dante gave a soft snort. He should really stop thinking about Vergil. V had picked up the name somewhere during his search for Dante and had thought he could win him over for his request more easily, as if that were necessary. Dante had arrived at a point where he’d take any job just to survive, his former pride gone out with the lights above his head when the bills remained unpaid.  
V had meant to bring him to heel with that name. He was using Vergil, his lost brother, to spur him into line.  
V grimaced when Dante involuntarily dug sharp nails into his skin.

***

It was undoubtedly the best thing that had happened to V ever since the separation, and the best thing that had happened to Vergil since his childhood had been taken from him. He hadn’t even dared to dream of an experience like this. When his initial reaction of hypersensitivity to touch finally died down and he was able to breathe again, what followed was the best of feelings, a feeling of being cherished and cared for. V felt tears rush into his eyes and hastily brushed them away with the back of his hand before Dante, fixated on his back, could spot it.  
Only then did V allow himself to grow still and sink down into the sensation.  
Dante’s hands were large and warm. They covered his back with precious, wonderful touches, sliding over skin and muscle and bone and softly pressing and squeezing the few spots that didn’t yield to them at once. V felt his body become warm and pliant, like the cookie dough their mother had used to knead patiently on the wooden cutting board until the butter pieces melted and made it smooth.  
_‘Nope, Sir, you’re not cookie dough. And we’re on a mission.’_  
V’s lids fluttered. Griffon was still on the alert, although he should have been able to sense V’s peace of mind. There was nothing wrong with this. Despite his reluctance at first, it had been a good choice to let Dante massage him. V hadn’t expected anything like this from his demon-slaying former twin. Dante didn’t do everything right―no, he was far from a professional masseur, but he did avoid putting pressure on the spine or any other prominent bone, and V could tell he really _tried_. The result was more than pleasant, it was heaven. A good intention alone could put so many wrong things right.  
Would Vergil have received a backrub too? Would Dante have offered it to him as he had to a stranger? Possibly. But Vergil would never have allowed it, let alone asked for it.  
V inhaled deeply as the slow, continued stroking brought images back to his mind. Images of him and his brother lying on their large bed, limbs intertwined in a ball, their usual sleeping position―skin on skin, breath on breath. They had been like that in the womb and later on, never separated. Never until…  
Suddenly, Dante began to question him about Vergil. Why wouldn’t he just let it rest? But he had a right to know…  
_‘It’s a trap, V! He’s trying to lull you and pull shit out of you. He’s taken the bait all right. Congrats, your plan worked.’  
I didn’t tell him anything…  
‘And you won’t if you know what’s good for us.’_  
V dreamily listened in to the moves of Dante’s hands on him. They were mostly gentle, almost cautious, the initial kneading and squeezing around his neck area had once more given way to long, tender strokes along his spine, so well-meaning and soothing and pleasantly warm V wanted to shudder with relief.  
But then he noticed something. And he realised that Griffon was right.  
Dante indeed did not try to ease tension anywhere. No, V had underestimated his brother again―Dante knew _exactly_ what the matter was. He didn’t even bother faking to concentrate on that allegedly crucial spot between the shoulder blades he had indicated earlier. No attempt to try and squeeze away a tension that wasn’t there. Dante knew. He _knew_ … Did he…?  
Now, the heavy downward strokes of palms alternated with light upward brushes of finger pads. These tingled and teased and felt wonderful. Up went Dante’s hands with the softness of cotton pads, then down again with full palms and firm pressure. His brother took his time with these ministrations, interrupting the steady up-and-down caresses only now and then to massage V’s lower neck and flanks in slow circles. These made V dozy again. He already felt himself going back to his previous half-sleep state.  
But then, suddenly, Dante’s nails dug in.  
V cringed.  
“Hey, V. Let’s get one thing straight, okay?” Dante’s voice was still nonchalant. “That is: I won’t be used.”  
V ran his tongue over dry lips, heartbeat unpleasantly quickening. “I… don’t mean to use you.”  
“Just wanted to be clear about that.” To V’s relief, Dante’s fingers began to rub the spot where they had hurt him. “Vergil is something I don’t joke about.”  
“Neither do I,” V asseverated. But he was wide awake now. A part of what had been building silently between them had changed.  
V realised he couldn’t control Dante. He couldn’t steer the man towards his selfish goal of becoming Vergil again, couldn’t make him clean up Vergil’s mess. Dante would find out. He would help out of a sense of obligation―out of _love_ ―but when he found out, he would try to stop V. Dante’s love would end where he stumbled over his betrayal. V knew it.  
Dante slid his palms twice from the base of V’s back up to his neck. Then his hands vanished. “Okay, we’re done.”  
V felt the sudden emptiness on his skin. Ever since Dante had started the treatment, his hands had never completely left, always maintaining a light contact when he moved on to another part of his back. But now, they were gone. V ached at the loss.  
But… he felt better.  
His back was all warm and still tingled pleasantly. His muscles felt smooth and supple. Maybe it was enough. He had gotten what he needed, and now he could carry on.  
“Thank you,” he said somewhat stiffly as he pushed himself up to sit. “I believe the… tension… is gone.”  
Dante shrugged, taking a step back. “Told you. Sometimes all we need is a few strokes and we’re good to go again.”  
He sauntered back to his desk, and V reached for his leather coat somewhat awkwardly. Suddenly, he felt embarrassed to have melted away under this man’s hands so easily.  
_‘Ah, c’mon. If you’re better now, it’s worth it. At least you haven’t given anything away.’  
Haven’t I?_ he thought, tying up the laces over his chest. _Well, I hope I haven’t._  
He got up from the couch, legs strong and less weary than before. It felt as if he had just awoken from a good nap. Lightly carrying the cane in one hand, he walked up to Dante again, and his brother turned to face him.  
They looked at each other like… strangers.  
V couldn’t exactly recall what he had felt while Dante stroked his back, neck and shoulders. It had been something strong, something so familiar and pleasant, the feeling of not being alone, of being valued, being part of… of what?  
_A family?_  
Now it was gone. They were strangers to each other again, eyeing one another with blank faces. There was no sign of recognition in Dante’s steel-blue eyes. V had no idea what had made his brother treat him in such a caring manner only minutes ago. But it didn’t matter. He was okay. He could cope now. He could face his impossible task with the echo of Dante’s hands on him.  
The seconds ticked away. Finally, Dante crossed his arms before his chest, the corners of his mouth twitching in the indication of a smug smile. “You do look better. At least you’re standing upright now. You’re welcome.”  
V tilted his head. “Thank you. I’ll expect to hear from you when all is prepared.”  
“You bet,” Dante promised, slumping down on his chair again, his interest waning. “So don’t run too far, okay?” And he began skimming through one of his magazines.  
V nodded, hesitating longer than he should. Then he turned and began to walk for the door. And this time, for good.

***

_I can’t_ , Dante thought. _Can’t hurt the guy._  
V was so fragile, so lonely. He needed him.  
Dante didn’t know why these thoughts kept invading his mind. That weird feeling of familiarity was almost overwhelmingly strong now. It seemed to flow through his hands, from V’s skin into his own, like a fluid… like warm blood into cold limbs.  
Whatever it was, he had better not allow it to tie him further to this man. It wasn’t a _bad_ thing―in fact, he supposed the strange connection helped the guy relax, put him at ease, but it wasn’t… _appropriate_. He had never seen V before. He shouldn’t want to adopt this weirdo like a beaten stray dog.  
Deciding he had done what he could, he took his hands off V’s back and stepped back.  
Yes. That broke the spell.  
In the blink of an eye, Dante came back to his old self. His confidence and healthy arrogance returned, and the small physical distance opened up like an abyss between them, pushing them apart like the strangers they were.  
Relieved, he watched from his desk as V got himself dressed again. The man looked better now―still scrawny and pale, but there was a pink shade to his shoulder region where Dante had massaged him, indicating healthy perfusion. In addition, his posture was erect now, prouder, less hunched. His gait was almost graceful. Dante couldn’t help but smile at the improvement.  
“You do look better. At least you’re standing upright now. You’re welcome,” he heard himself say.  
“Thank you,” V replied politely. “I’ll expect to hear from you when all is prepared.”  
“You bet. So don’t run too far, okay?” Dante opened a magazine, leafing through it aimlessly. He wanted this to end now. It was enough. Whatever they had exchanged on the couch, he had received his share of it and was willing to let go.  
And V left.  
The door fell shut softly behind him, and Dante kept still, listening to the low footsteps fading quickly.  
Good.  
He put the magazine down and put back his head. What a _strange_ fellow. Not a demon, that much was certain, but they had something in common―presumably more than he thought. Well, he hadn’t gotten it out of him. He had to let it rest―but only for now. Vergil or not, he would find out. There was enough time.  
Yet, something within himself remained. A faint wish to be there for V, to guard him.  
_Oh well, seems my protective instinct for broken things kicks in_ , he thought pensively.  
He suddenly realised that if that demon was truly as nasty as V had claimed, he wouldn’t allow V to come with them. He would tell that weed to leave, send him home to safety, regardless of whatever the girls would say. And he’d keep any explanation to himself. “Why, Dante?” they’d ask. “Why do you care? Who is he?”  
He sighed.  
_No one special_ , he thought. _He’s no one special._  
Dante picked up the magazine again, leant back and placed it over his face. There was plenty of time until Morrison returned.  
Plenty of time until he would meet V again―and eventually, whatever strange fate was in store for the two of them.

END

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for the touch-starved trope, so I just HAD to do this.  
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed. :)


End file.
